


Forgive me, for I am not acting myself.

by VexedBeverage



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hatslash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Polyamory, Yogslash, hatsome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VexedBeverage/pseuds/VexedBeverage
Summary: Anon prompt from Tumblr.Could you do a Hatslash with Smith being emotional over being "the least liked member of the yogscast" with Trott and Ross comforting him?





	

Ross sighed gently as soon as the door closed behind Smith and he could hear him walking up the stairs. The dark haired man pulled his headphones off to rest around his neck and scrubbed at his face with both hands. Leaning forward slightly and resting his elbows on the desk, his face still buried in his hands, he jumped slightly at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. “Ross?” Ross straightened his back, looking up at Trott standing over him on his right. “You okay?”

Ross nodded. “Yeah.” He answered a little lack luster before clearing his throat. “I’m good.” 

It had always puzzled Ross that although Trott had known him much longer, it was always Ross that was more sensitive and receptive to Smith’s feelings. Always Ross who would bring things up to the other or to the man in question himself. 

Trott didn't look convinced, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth to ask again when a sound from upstairs stopped him dead in his tracks.

Both men turned towards the door to the hall and waited for a moment before a second sound, similar to the first carried down the stairs.

Ross pulled the headphones from around his neck and dropped them to the desk as he stood and followed Trott towards the stairs. 

“Smith?” Trott called out once he was around halfway up the flight. 

If Ross and Trott hadn’t frozen on the spot to listen for Smith’s response then they would have only caught his slightly out of breath. “Yeah?” And not the panicked stream of expletives that both preceded and followed the answer. 

Trott hurried up the stairs with quick movements, Ross following behind taking two stairs at a time. They arrived outside the bathroom where the sound of Smith hurriedly doing something could be heard. The sound of cabinets opening and closing and a tap running as well as the shower. 

The two men outside the door shared a look before Ross knocked on the wood. “Smith?” He repeated Trott’s earlier call. “Everything okay in there?” 

“I’m fine.” Smith called back. “Just having a shower.” 

“We heard some banging?” Trott said before smirking and continuing. “And since neither of us are in there with you, we got worried. Have you got Lewis in there with you or something?” 

Ross rolled his eyes at Trott’s joke. “Can we come in?” He asked, hand resting on the door handle. 

The door shook in Ross’ hand as something, presumably Smith himself, was flung against the door from the other side. “No. I’m busy. I’ll be out soon.” 

“Look, if you slipped over whilst jacking it then just tell us so that I can go back to editing. Its nothing to be ashamed of, Sunshine. Happens to the best of us.” Trott said, looking down at his feet as he spoke. 

The sound of something smaller hitting the door came before Smith answered. “I just slipped a bit, it’s fine. Go back to editing.” 

Trott nodded at the door and then moved away, pulling Ross back by the arm. “What the fuck, Trott?” Ross hissed, keeping his voice down so Smith wouldn't be able to hear. “That is complete bullshit and you know it.” 

“I know.” Trott whispered back. “But if we stay out here then he isn't ever going to come out, you know what he’s like.” 

Ross wet his lips but nodded in agreement. “Something hasn't been right for a while.” He admitted. 

Trott nodded back. “I know.” 

Ross raised his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked, his eyes staring directly into Trott’s. 

“I didn’t want to start a fight.” Trott admitted. “I don’t have that thing that you do where it completely disarms him and gets him to just spill everything that’s wrong.” He continued. “Whenever I try to talk to Smith about anything slightly upsetting it ends in a massive shouting match and then maybe some super hot make up sex which, whilst great, doesn’t actually solve the problem.”

“What, so this is on me to deal with?” Ross asked, glancing at the door. 

Trott shook his head. “No, but you should probably be the one to do the talking. At least to start with anyway.” 

Ross took a deep breath and blew it out his slightly parted lips whilst nodding in agreement to Trott. “Come on, if he knows we’re out here he won’t come out.” Without further words, Ross walked past the bathroom door and into Smith’s room next to it. 

Once they had entered the room, Ross pushed the door so it was almost closed so that Smith wouldn’t know they were in there until it was too late for him to escape elsewhere in the house. Trott situated himself on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard in a sitting position with his legs outstretched and ankles crossed. Ross paced, padding from one side of the room to the other and back again as they waited. 

**********

Smith calmed his breathing as he heard Ross and Trott retreating. Pushing himself more upright from where he had been leaning all his weight against the door to keep them out. 

With a hissing intake of breath he looked down at his hand and flexed it. A couple of knuckles swollen and one split, leaving a trail of watery blood to run down his middle finger. 

He shut off the shower with his left hand and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist, struggling to get it to stay up around his hips using only one hand. 

The water streaming from the tap was freezing cold and he pulled his hand instinctively away before clenching his other fist and putting his damaged hand back under the flow.

He felt so stupid, berating himself in his head for being so careless and managing to get the attention of the two downstairs. He hadn't wanted that. 

He wasn't really sure what he wanted. Had just wanted for his head to shut the fuck up. He knew that the bullshit floating around in his head was just that, bullshit. He knew that no one who mattered thought the things that the comments had said. He knew that the comments were toxic and had warned as much to many others in the past. 

He knew. He knew that he mattered to those he cared about. He knew he wasn't a waste of space or something that hurt those around him. He also knew that most of the comments didn’t say that either. Most were supportive and funny or joking. Hell, even some of them that were ‘mean’ were usually in jest but it didn’t stop him sometimes feeling that maybe they were right. Maybe he wasn’t good for those around him. Maybe he was himself toxic, sucking the enjoyment out of life for his loved ones. 

He went in circles, spiralling down and down into harder thoughts. Thoughts of being kept around for meaningless reasons, thoughts of the two people he cared for most in the world only staying because of the business, because they couldn’t or wouldn’t let the fans down but for no other reason. 

The bathroom seemed to be so small, too small to house such emotions and Smith felt the overbearing need to just get out. Out of the room, out of the house, out of the city maybe. 

He nodded to himself in the mirror and turned the tap off. The blood had stopped flowing from the tear in his knuckle and now they just looked red and swollen. With gritted teeth Smith took another towel in his hands and rubbed it vigorously against his head, drying his hair as much as possible, the rest of his body almost dry from the amount of time he had been contemplating his thoughts. 

Throwing the towel over the side of the bath, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. Leaning outside, he scanned the hallway for any sign of either Ross or Trott and, finding none he stepped out and over to his bedroom. 

His good hand held up his towel as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, going over in his mind how he would quickly and quietly get dressed and sneak out of the house to clear his head without his boyfriends being any the wiser. 

As soon as his eyes rose from the carpet to the bed he realised his mistake, seeing Trott lounging there and Ross standing close by. 

With conscious effort he slowly moved his damaged hand so that it was hidden in the folds of his towel, careful to make it seem like a natural movement and not draw attention to it. “What are you guys doing in here?” 

“Waiting for you.” Trott answered gesturing to the bed next to him. 

Smith ignored the invitation and instead strode over to the wardrobe, opening the doors and peering inside so he didn't have to look at either of the other men. “Why?” He asked, trying to sound disinterested in the conversation.

Something settled in the air. A tense feeling that all of them could feel and that Ross was the one to address. “We’re worried about you.” 

Smith snorted a laugh. “What for?” He asked, still rooting around seeming to be looking for a specific item of clothing inside. “I’m fine.” 

“Smith?” Trott sighed. “Something is obviously wrong.” 

Smith could feel his ire rising at Trott’s words. They sounded so much like an accusation to him, like an attack and not the caring words they really were. 

Smith snatached up a t shirt and quickly pulled it over his head before stepping into a pair of boxers and pulling them on then, tossing the towel to the other side of the room where other dirty clothes lay in a corner. “Is it?” Smith asked, gritting his teeth as he spoke. 

Smith pulled on jeans and a hoodie, jamming his injured hand into the pocket of the hoodie and using his other to close the wardrobe. 

Ross waited for Smith to turn around, knowing that nothing he said would make an impression unless Smith was looking at him. “Alex, stop.” 

The use of his first name had the impact that Ross hoped. Smith looked up and met Ross’ eyes with his own for a split second before looking away sharply. “Don’t ‘Alex’ me.” Smith muttered. 

Trott sighed and swung his legs off the bed so he could stand. “We need to talk about whatever is going on, Alex.” 

Smith felt the anger rising again. He had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to talk to either of them and they just wouldn’t take the hint. With a huff of annoyance, his right hand came up to fist in his hair in frustration. “So now you’re ganging up on me, Trott. Really?” He asked, staring down the shorter man. 

“We aren’t ganging up on you. There is obviously something wrong and you won't talk to us about it.” Trott pushed. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Smith retorted. 

Trott’s eyes narrowed as Smith let his hand fall from his head, to his side. “You’re knuckles tell a different story, Sunshine.” 

Smith clenched the fist in question and glanced down at it for a moment. “Fuck off, Chris.” 

Trott threw a look to Ross, gesturing with a flap of his hand towards Smith. “See?” 

Ross sighed. “Both of you, sit the fuck down.” His voice sounded tired, something that they all knew was either an indication of genuine fatigue or a sign that he was forcing himself to stay calm and would soon lose his temper. 

Trott sat back down without any more prompting whilst Smith stared Ross down for a moment, until Ross gestured to the bed once more. Smith sank down, sitting on the very edge of the mattress and far enough away from Trott that they didn't accidently brush limbs.

All resistance left Smith when Ross sat down next to him, close enough to put an arm around Smith’s shoulder and pull him in close. Trott scooted closer to Smith’s right side and reached for his hand gently. 

Smith said nothing as Ross rubbed his upper arm and Trott examined his hand.

“I do still have pads and gloves, you know.” Trott said quietly. “If you needed to punch something.” 

Smith snorted a laugh that morphed into sniffles before Ross wrapped his other arm around him too. 

All semblance of nonchalance left Smith once Ross had hold of him and he snaked both his own arms around Ross’ middle and buried his face in Ross’ t shirt. 

Ross shushed him gently, muttering comforting nonsense into the taller man’s still damp hair as Trott joined on the other side to sandwich Smith between himself and Ross, his chin resting on Smith’s shoulder.

Once Smith had quieted, he scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled away from Ross’ chest. “Sorry.” He mumbled, not meeting either man’s eye. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Trott assured him. “We just want you to feel like you can talk to us when stuff happens.” 

“Nothing happened though.” Smith said. “I was just-” He faltered. “I don't know.” He admitted. It all seemed so stupid now. How could he ever think that Trott and Ross didn’t want him? They made him feel so loved and included in every aspect of their lives and yet his own insecurities seemed to override the rational part of his brain that knew this every so often. “I love you guys.” 

Ross tilted his head and studied Smith for a moment. “We know, Smith.” 

Trott picked up the thread. “And we love you too, you twat.” Ross nodded in agreement.

Smith’s answering smile set aside Ross’ earlier worry. He took the taller man's hand, stood and pulled him to his feet. Once he was standing, he offered the other hand to Trott. “Come on. We have popcorn and Game of Thrones downstairs.” 

Trott reached out with his free hand to snatch up Smith’s quilt, having to drop Ross’ hand to gather it up. “Bagsy in the middle!” He said, pushing past the other two and out of the room. 

Smith dropped Ross’ hand too and hurried after Trott. “What? No!” He called. “I’m the one who had a breakdown!” 

Ross watched them both leave with a wry smile, the sound of their bickering carrying through the house.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I asked on Tumblr for prompts and requests to try and get through my writers block and someone send me this on anon. Super fun time writing it and I am feeling more in the spirit of writing now. 
> 
> If anyone has any prompts they want me to try and hmu on Tumblr with an ask or a message :) 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this by dropping me a comment. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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